Unfortunately, we'll never get a chance to find out because his feet are made out of Jell-O.
Now here's the deal--I've written plenty of blogs in the past about god awful shootout attempts in beer league, and typically we just chalk them up to the boys getting too tuned up before the game. I don't think that's the case here. This lad is just a little too...well...I guess the medical term would be fat as fuck.
But I'll admit I loved every bit of the first 8 seconds of that attempt. You gotta imagine the big fella felt like he was living in a movie when he first picked up that puck. Probably had "My Hero" by Foo Fighters playing in his head the whole time. He could feel the wind breezing through his hair as he came flying down the slot. And the leg lift is where you know he was feeling himself. That's the moment he's dreamt of his entire life. Leg lift, drop the shoulder, forehand, backhand, roof job, celly, wheel a few broads at the bar after the game, pick up a tryout for a local pro team, live the dream. It all starts with that shootout attempt. And for at least 8 seconds of his life, that dream was alive and well.
That's what beer league hockey is all about. We know the dream is dead. We know the dream was never really even alive in the first place. But for just a few brief moments every week, we get to convince ourselves in our own minds that maybe there's still a chance. It all comes crashing down quickly every time you toe pick heading after a loose puck in the corner, but you wouldn't trade those few moments for anything. This guy gets it, even if his body doesn't.